a passionate, fragmentary girl, maybe?
by dance life away
Summary: Sylvia Plath once wrote: "I am still so naive; I know pretty much what I like and dislike; but please don't ask me who I am. A passionate, fragmentary girl, maybe?" If she'd ever heard of her, Parvati Patil would probably say it was written with her in mind. Parvati-centric character exploration drabbles/snippets/whatevers. Rating is just a guess.
1. Chapter 1

**she of the mountians**

Disclaimer: blah blah I don't own anything blah blah

Summary: Sylvia Plath once wrote: "I am still so naive; I know pretty much what I like and dislike; but please don't ask me who I am. A passionate, fragmentary girl, maybe?" If she'd ever heard of her, Parvati Patil would probably say it was written with her in mind. Parvati-centric character exploration drabbles/snippets/whatevers.

This is the into-ish thing to this little collection of moments and feelings in the life of Parvati Patil. I can't _not_ do intros with these sorts of things. _Subsequent "chapters" will be in no particular order, _just as they come to me and are edited.

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"Here I am, a bundle of past recollections and future dreams, knotted up in a reasonably attractive bundle of flesh."

-Sylvia Plath

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_Parvati__ [PAHR-vah-tee]_- feminine and Indian in usage, it is the name of the Hindu goddess Parvati. She is one third of the Tripdeva (Triple Goddess), the consort of Shiva, and truest material form of Mother Adishakti, the Supreme Being and the active energy that both creates and dissolves the entire universe. She is the goddess of love and devotion, but in her many forms, names (all 108 of them!), and incarnations, is so much more - just like Parvati Patil.

She, too, knows she was made for someone and something special, would walk through fire for the people she loves. Her capacity for love, affection, and steadfastness is there, easy to find if one is looking. There is a quiet courage there, a deep compassion, and emotional strength to her. She may be a dreamer and romantic with her head in the clouds, unrealistically optimistic at times, but she can face painful truths when there is no way of escaping them. Her love of beauty and well-honed aesthetic sense might make her a bit vain, but a love of material comforts doesn't keep Parvati from knowing image is not the most important thing about a person. She loves people for who they are even if she recognises and respects status. Sometimes she can be like a fire, raging and chaotic, though her anger is cool as ice in practice. Structure and routine give her a headache but she is still her own sort of practical. Life has ebb and flow, and so does she, and takes it one day at a time, improvising in any situation.

But these are things people do not seem interested in finding out. And they call _her_ superficial!

* * *

this is kinda along the same vein as _I don't belong here_ as far as what the point of it is - the provide a fuller exploration of a canon character. Parvati might not be a death-eater-backstabber-betrayer or whatever, but JKR is such a tease with her! In canon we see these tiny glimpses of a girl who has some real substance, but aside from a very small handful of moments, she writes her mostly giggling and gossiping. Grrr!


	2. castor & pollux

**castor & pollux**

Disclaimer: blah blah I don't own anything blah blah

Summary: Sylvia Plath once wrote: "I am still so naive; I know pretty much what I like and dislike; but please don't ask me who I am. A passionate, fragmentary girl, maybe?" If she'd ever heard of her, Parvati Patil would probably say it was written with her in mind. Parvati-centric character exploration drabbles/snippets/whatevers.

This is the into-ish thing to this little collection of moments and feelings in the life of Parvati Patil. I can't _not_ do intros with these sorts of things. _Subsequent "chapters" will be in no particular order, _just as they come to me and are edited.

* * *

"What's the matter?"

The sound of her twin sister's voice pulls an eleven year-old Parvati Patil's head out of the clouds. This, in a sentence, is their relationship. Most days she is sure she would up and float away, disappear into the cloudy Manchester sky, if it weren't for her sister, with love like nails in her geet. Padma, who teaches her herself to read at age four and bullies Parvati into doing it to; Padma, who tells her at age nine to start keeping dream journals if they bother her so much. Padma - the Lakshmi to her, well, Parvati.

"We'll be sorted into the same house, right?" she asks, tone betraying the nervous butterflies swelling up in the pit of her belly.

"Of course we well," Padma replies, certain, and Parvati wishes she could be certain to. "We're twins, aren't we?"

The ceremony starts then, with Professor McGonnagal parading the scared herd of first years into the hall. One by one, she calls out names and a hat cires out with an answer to the question which may very well decide their futures. PAD comes before PAR, and so Parvati waits. She watches her twin become a Ravenclaw - where those of wit learning will always find their kind. Can she belong there, she wonders? With Padma, she can belong _anywhere_.

"Patil, Parvati!"

She's fairly sure her palms are drenched in sweat as she walks up to the stool. The professor drops the tattered hat onto her head, over her eyes, and everything goes dark. How she wants to search the crowd for her sister, and borrow some of her strength!

"Mmm, a pair of twins, I see!" exlaims an excited voice, startling the young girl. "I suppose Ravenclaw could be good for you, if you really want it."

Parvati's heart poundss wildly in her chest, which feels a bit tight. Which is odd, and she doesn't know why. The hat continues to babble away - it says she is a sharp one, practical when she wants to be, not rigid but with an open mind, ebbing and flowing like the tide. Such an open heart, it says, will grow strong and faithful if nurtured.

"Ah, but what's this I see? An independent streak! Oh yes, I quite like you for Gryffindor, I think."

Mentions of an "independent" streak make her squirm in her chair, uncomfortable. Gryffindor? Parvati isn't so sure. Ravenclaw, where Padma is, sounds a much safer bet.

"Now my dear, don't tell me you really desire to play it safe! I can see inside your head, you know!" it chastises. "Why, just an hour ago you were thinking about how Hogwarts was going to be your chance to be known as more than just one half of a whole, didn't you?"

She does not reply right away-mostly because he is right. Being glued to Padma's side is what she's always been, but it isn't what she wants to be forever. Yes, her sister is safe, familiar, and of course Parvati loves her, but...

"But you want to be Parvati, not Patil number one or number two," the hat finishes for her.

Although she agrees with it, there is still lingering doubt and reluctance. How can she possibly be a Gryffindor? She is not brave or daring!

"There are few thins more brave, my dear, than daring to define yourself," it says, voice grave. "Especially when that definition defies what others may want of you."

There is no more convincing to be done. Without any further ado, a loud voice rings out in her head and throughout the Great Hall, declaring GRYFFINDOR! for all to hear. Parvati does not stumble down from the stool or to the table decked with banners of scarlet and gold. No, she's not quite confident, but feels...assured; like yes, she can belong her. Yes, she _does_ belong here.

The Sorting Hat's words stay with her long after the ceremony, becoming their own sort of nails in her feet.

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YEAR 1...obviously.


End file.
